“I thought, Kristin, that once you had children of your own, then you would better understand. . . .”
She remembered when her mother said those words. Sorrowfully, the daughter thought that she still didn’t understand her mother. But now she was beginning to realize how much she didn’t understand.
That fall Archbishop Eiliv died. At about the same time, King Magnus had the terms changed for many of the sheriffs in the land, but not for Erlend Nikulauss?n. When he was in Bj?rgvin during the last summer before the king came of age, Erlend had received a letter stating that he should be granted one fourth of the income collected from bail paid by criminals, from fines for the crime of letter-breaching,1 and from forfeitures of property. There had been much talk about his acquisition of such rights toward the end of a regency. Erlend had a vast income because he now owned a great deal of land in the county and usually stayed on his own estates when he traveled around his district, but he permitted his leaseholders to buy their way out of their obligation to house and feed him. It’s true that he took in little in land taxes, and the upkeep of his manor was costly; in addition to his household servants, he never had fewer than twelve armed men with him at Husaby. They rode the best horses and were splendidly outfitted, and whenever Erlend traveled around his district, his men lived like noblemen.
This matter was mentioned one day when Judge Harald and the sheriff of Gauld?la county were visiting Husaby. Erlend replied that many of these men had been with him when he lived up north. “Back then we shared whatever conditions we found there, eating dried fish and drinking bitter ale. Now these men whom I clothe and feed know that I won’t begrudge them white bread and foreign ale. And if I tell them to go to Hell when I get angry, they know that I don’t mean for them to set off on the journey without me in the lead.”
Ulf Haldorss?n, who was now the head of Erlend’s men, later told Kristin that this was true. Erlend’s men loved him, and he had complete command of them.
“You know yourself, Kristin, that no one should rely too heavily on what Erlend says; he must be judged by what he does.”
It was also rumored that in addition to his household servants, Erlend had men throughout the countryside—even outside Orkd?la county—who had sworn allegiance to him on the hilt of his sword. Finally a letter from the Crown arrived regarding this matter, but Erlend replied that these men had been part of his ship’s crew and they had been bound to him by oath ever since that first spring when he sailed north. He was then commanded to release the men at the next ting he held to announce the verdicts and decisions of the Law ting; and he was to summon to the meeting those men who lived outside the county and pay for their journey himself. He did summon some of his old crew members from outside M?re to the ting at Orkedal—but no one heard that he released them or any other men who had served him in his position as chieftain. For the time being the matter was allowed to languish, and as the autumn wore on, people stopped talking about it altogether.
Late that fall Erlend journeyed south and spent Christmas at the court of King Magnus, who was residing in Oslo that year. Erlend was annoyed that he couldn’t persuade his wife to come with him, but Kristin had no courage for the difficult winter journey, and she stayed at Husaby.
Erlend returned home three weeks after Christmas, bringing splendid gifts for his wife and all his children. He gave Kristin a silver bell so she could ring for her maids; to Margret he gave a clasp of solid gold, which was something she didn’t yet own, although she had all sorts of silver and gilded jewelry. But when the women were putting away these costly gifts in their jewelry chests, something got caught on Margret’s sleeve.
The girl quickly removed it and hid it in her hand as she said to her stepmother, “This belonged to my mother—that’s why Father doesn’t want me to show it to you.”
But Kristin’s face had turned even more crimson than the maiden’s. Her heart pounded with fear, but she knew that she had to speak to the young girl and warn her.
After a moment she said in a quiet and uncertain voice, “That looks like the gold clasp that Fru Helga of Gimsar used to wear to banquets.”
“Well, many gold things look much the same,” replied the maiden curtly.
Kristin locked her chest and stood with her hands resting on top so that Margret wouldn’t see how they were shaking.
“Dear Margret,” she said softly and gently, but then she had to stop while she gathered all her strength.
“Dear Margret, I have often bitterly regretted . . . My happiness has never been complete, even though my father forgave me with all his heart for the sorrows I caused him. You know that I sinned greatly against my parents for the sake of your father. But the longer I live and the more I come to understand, the harder it is for me to remember that I rewarded their kindness by causing them sorrow. Dear Margret, your father has been good to you all your days . . .”